


flight 304

by awkwardwritersyndrome



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, PWP, i see fan art and lose my mind, today i offer you raunchy sex, tomorrow probably more of the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardwritersyndrome/pseuds/awkwardwritersyndrome
Summary: Korra's headed to Houston to visit a friend [with benefits] and forgets something bad in her carry-on. She has 30 minutes to talk her way out of this mess.
Relationships: Korra & Asami Sato, Korra/Asami Sato
Comments: 3
Kudos: 168





	flight 304

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/KorrasB/status/1302654372711723010?s=20) art from [ansdrela](https://twitter.com/Ansdrela_Art)

_Beep_. The TSA agent checking IDs scans another. He’s a heavy man with an odd haircut, hunched over the stand that separates him from the travelers. 

_Beep._ Korra is cutting it close to her departure time. Her flight is scheduled to begin boarding in 30 minutes, but it looks like the line through security is moving fast, so she’s not too worried yet. 

_Beep._ The burly man scans Korra’s ID and holds it up to her face, checking for likeness. His first thought is _damn, she’s fine_. Then he gives her the once over with his eyes and changes his mind. Korra has on a white tank top, loose fitting jeans that reveal the waistband of her boxer briefs, and Timberland boots. She didn’t bother with a coat even though she was flying out of Chicago in the middle of December. She was headed to Houston to meet up with her old friend, Kuvira, so warm clothes weren’t necessary.

“It’s a bit cold out for a wife beater,” the man says flatly, disappointed that his dirty thoughts had found a woman so unwilling to fuck him. Korra forces a dry, sardonic chuckle, and flashes him an annoyed half-smile. She takes her ID back and makes her way to the checkpoint. 

Her boots clunk on the floor as she kicks them off and tosses them into a bin. She pulls her ziplock of liquids out of her carry-on and places them with her boots. She empties her pockets but continues to pat them nervously as she waits to traverse the metal detector. _What am I forgetting?_ Her brows come together in a thoughtful glower as she mentally itemizes the content of her luggage. Then it dawns on her. “Shit!”

“Step through, ma’am!” A tall, slim, and rather gorgeous brunette directs Korra to step through the metal detector just as she realizes what she forgot. Korra looks up at the agent waving her through, sheer panic in her eyes, feet frozen in her Nike socks. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck!_

“Ma’am, I need you to _step through_ ,” the agent repeated more sternly. Korra slaps her hand to her face and drags it down past her chin. No turning back now.

After making it through the detector without issue, the agent stands in front of Korra and waits for the all-clear signal from the bag scanners. Korra drops her head and sighs, she knows exactly what the other agents are going to find in her bag. 

The woman checking the luggage x-rays squints at the screen for a few seconds, unsure of what she’s seeing. People aren’t usually _this_ dumb when they travel. She pulls Korra’s bag off the conveyor belt and rifles through it until she finds the small plastic bag of weed. Twisted up into a precious nugget is 3.5 grams of gorilla glue kush. As the security personnel wave it around, the dank odor wafts through the air. Korra inhales deeply. _So long my friend, I’ll miss you,_ she laments in her head. 

The agent standing in front of her adopts a hardened expression and gets serious. “Is that your bag, ma’am?” 

Korra puts on a goofy smile, hoping a cute face will get her out of this predicament. “Uh...yes,” she admits nervously. 

Suddenly the agent is on high alert. Her voice gets a little louder and her movements become robotic. “I’m going to pat you down. Is there anything on you that I need to know about?”

Korra shakes her head ‘no’. She’s suddenly much more aware of the other woman — her height, and build, and bright green eyes. As her hands slide across Korra’s body, it’s hard to make out the name on her badge. When she finishes, she stands up and asks Korra to walk toward a set of office doors behind the security area. The words never quite make it to Korra’s ears, she’s fixated on the name — Asami Sato.

“ _Please_ make your way to the secure investigation room.” Again, the agent sounds agitated with Korra’s inability to quickly follow instructions. Her assertive tone only makes Korra more interested and less compliant. 

When they get into the small room, Asami locks the door behind them and slams Korra’s bag onto the table. She grabs some disposable gloves and stretches them over her noticeably long fingers. Korra thoroughly enjoys the sight of their length and slender shape. She wonders if Asami’s fingers are soft or rough, coordinated or inexperienced, for giving or for taking. The snap of the latex against Asami’s palm rips Korra back to reality.

Slowly, the TSA agent unpacks the duffle bag and puts each item on the table to be searched. Korra’s face gets red hot as Asami unfolds the black lacy underwear that were hidden at the bottom of the bag. Maybe Kuvira was a bit more than a friend. 

Asami handles the panties delicately, and for the first time during their encounter, her professional mask cracks. She glances up at a blushing Korra and suddenly feels tightening between her legs. Asami’s mind went to work undressing the other woman and imagining nothing but the thin fabric hugging her ass. _Woah! Focus, Sato!_

Finally, Asami removes the bag of weed and places it on a scale. It weighs a bit more than an eighth of an ounce, well under the legal limit of possession in Illinois, which makes things interesting.

“Are you aware that transporting drugs across state lines is a felony? I can have you arrested.”

 _Oh, what the fuck?_ Korra knew she should’ve checked her bag. Now she was on the verge of going to jail, all because she wanted weed with her Houston whiskey. She may appear hard on the outside, but she’s actually a softie, she would definitely be someone’s bottom in jail. If she’s lucky, she might be able to trade some ramen for a prison wife that takes good care of her. 

“Are you listening,” Asami growls, leaning forward across the table, unknowingly revealing the cleavage hiding beneath her uniform. Korra was not listening _at all_.

“I hear you, misses...what is it, Say-Toe?”

“SAH-toe! And you need to take this more seriously. In the case of legally possessed controlled substances, it’s up to the TSA department to decide to pursue charges or not.” Korra’s ears perk up and Asami grows a smug grin on her face. The younger woman glances at the clock and notices she has 15 minutes until her flight boards. If she plays her cards right, she can still make it to Houston. Asami thinks she’s got the upper hand and is most pleased to see Korra grappling with the gravity of her actions. Unfortunately, that wasn’t exactly what Korra had on her mind.

“Mrs. Sato—”

“Miss…” Asami corrected.

“My apologies. Miss Sato, I want you to know I’m deeply apologetic for bringing my recreational items into this fine airport. It was an honest mistake.” Laying it on thick would have been an understatement. Korra was dumping every bit of charm she had into her plea for forgiveness, and it seemed to be working. Asami folded her arms and leaned against the table. She stared down at Korra for a bit, happy to be in control, and happier still to drink in the view from that angle — two round breasts bracketed by chiseled arms. The tank top left very little to the imagination. 

Korra caught Ms. Sato looking and decided to take full advantage of the intensifying need flickering in her green eyes. Korra pushed back from the table, spread her legs, and ran her hands down her thighs before resting them on her knees. The lax posture dripped with bravado, forcing Asami to focus on Korra’s zipper. 

“Maybe we can work something out, Ms. Sato,” Korra suggested, her voice low and coarse. Her eyes were trained on Asami’s neck, she could practically see the agent’s pulse speeding up.

“And w-what would you suggest?” Asami’s voice cracked under the wanting gaze. She felt like a gazelle standing mere inches from a ravenous lion. 

Korra could sense Asami’s guard deteriorating, so she stood up and moved in front of the uniformed woman. She made sure to get as close as possible without actually touching, then gave a salacious smile. There was a hitch in Asami’s breath and her lips parted unconsciously. Suddenly her blue collared shirt was begging to be ripped off.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to fuck you, Ms. Sato.” Korra couldn’t get any more direct than that. Her proposition soaked Asami’s panties before she even lifted a finger to touch her. 

The TSA agent backed up to put space between them and regain her composure. She located the camera in the corner of the room and yanked the cords out of their sockets. When she turned around, Korra was right there, this time close enough for their breasts to meet, softly grazing against each other. “Oh,” she gasped. 

“Is that a yes?” Korra snaked her hand around Asami’s waist and pulled her in until their pelvises were pressed together. There was a heat radiating from both of their bodies, a mutual desire building between them. Asami struggled to speak and now it was Korra’s turn to be impatient. “Ms. Sato, are _you_ listening?”

Asami recognized her question from earlier being used against her and felt emboldened by the teasing. _Fuck it_ , she thought. Instead of words she answered Korra with a demanding kiss, her hands braced around Korra’s neck, her weight falling forward, threatening to knock them both to the ground. Luckily, Korra was strong enough to keep them standing. She welcomed the tongue into her mouth, sucking it gently, returning the favor, biting at Asami’s lip. Without thinking, she lifted Asami off the ground and two legs wrapped around her waist. Korra walked them to the table and sat Asami down without breaking from their kiss. She made quick work of the perfectly pressed TSA shirt, ripping it open so all the buttons flew around the room. 

“Fuck,” Asami moaned as her bra was exposed. Her breathing got deep and uneven, catching for a split second when she felt the clasp behind her back come undone. With the bra removed, Korra wasted no time indulging herself, sucking on a pert nipple, flicking her tongue against it until Asami arched her back greedily, pushing her breast into Korra’s mouth. 

Korra reached around and slid all her things to the floor and layed Asami flat against the cool table top. Asami fumbled with her own belt and pants until she got them unfastened, then Korra did the rest, ripping them off with ease. Asami could feel a thrumming in her core at the sight of Korra pulling her tank top over her head. Korra tossed her top on the floor and lowered herself again, this time biting her way down Asami’s chest. Neither of them needed much foreplay, they could come right then, but it was impossible to resist. Korra was addicted to the whimpers falling from Asami’s lips, and the way she bucked her hips looking for friction and relief. After committing a crime, it was the least Korra could do to give her friendly TSA agent the orgasm of a lifetime.

 _Why are these still on?_ Korra cupped her hand between Asami’s legs and felt offended by the fabric that was in her way. She shoved it to the side and wet her fingers in the lust dripping from Asami’s opening. “Oh god,” Asami whispered, her breathless words drowned out by the gushing sounds of Korra entering her with two fingers. She tightened around the digits, making herself wetter, and Korra more determined. 

They barely looked at each other as Korra stroked Asami’s pussy, plunging deeper and deeper, enjoying the raunchy music of the splashing and moaning. “Fuck, that’s wet.” An apt observation.

When Asami’s walls started to quiver and Korra knew she was close, she pulled out entirely, much to Asami’s dismay. “No, don’t stop,” she begged. 

Korra had no such intention. She wrapped her lips around her fingers and sucked off every trace of Asami, the smell of her sex making Korra feel drunk. She pulled Asami to her feet, spun her around, and bent her over. With one hand on the nape of Asami’s neck, pinning her to the table, Korra used her other to find her soaking entrance once again. This time she drew lazy circles until she could hear how badly Asami needed more. She slid her fingers up to a throbbing clit, all the neglect made it sensitive as hell. Korra pressed into it, sliding back and forth, offering the much needed pressure for Asami’s orgasm to build. 

Then she fucked Asami hard, three fingers stretching her open, hitting her spot again and again. The screams would’ve been heard in every terminal in the airport if the room wasn’t sound proof. “Don’t stop...please...I’m coming.”

Ecstasy tore through Asami’s body like a bolt of lightning, cum pooling in Korra’s hand, knees shaking, lungs struggling to get enough air. “Fuck,” is all she could manage to say.

“I’m short on time, Ms. Sato,” Korra said as she eyed the clock. _Just three minutes until boarding begins_. “I’d really love to fuck you all day, but I have a flight to catch.”

Asami peeled herself from the table once her legs could hold her up. She turned around and grabbed Korra’s arm, stopping the shorter woman from picking up her shirt. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” TSA agents always strived for excellent customer service. 

A titillating twinge in Korra’s stomach made her forget about her flight all together. She had a want that needed to be fulfilled. She hooked her hand around Asami’s neck and stole another bruising kiss before giving in to her need. Blue eyes locked onto green as she pushed Asami down onto her knees. “Make it quick,” she commanded.

Asami graciously complied. She undid Korra’s pants and slid them down along with her briefs. She braced herself by grabbing the back of Korra’s chiseled thighs and let her mouth do the rest. A warm, supple tongue ran the length of Korra’s slit and lapped up every bit of slickness it found. Asami tongued her hole, nose pressing into her clit, thighs twitching under her grip. Korra fisted Asami’s raven hair and ground into her mouth. “Don’t tease,” she demanded.

That was all the instruction the TSA agent needed. Asami found Korra’s g-spot with her lengthy index and began sucking her clit. She took Korra into her mouth, firm and wet, and let her tongue flit with increasing pace. Korra’s eyes rolled back and she had to lay her hand on the table to keep from falling over. “Don’t fucking stop. That. Right. There.” 

Asami’s tongue felt like a vibrator as she licked Korra into a tizzy. Her toes curled in her boots and her demands turned into feeble cries of pleasure. She trembled and rocked her hips while she slowly came down from her orgasm. Her shaky breaths let Asami know she delivered on her promise for quality service.

When she had her wits about her, Korra pulled her pants up and packed her things back into her duffle bag. “I appreciate your understanding, Ms. Sato.”

Asami did her best to get dressed with her tattered shirt and damp underwear. “Right...just...don’t bring weed through the terminal next time. Who does that?”

Korra chuckled at the irony of being judged by a woman who just got off her knees. Before leaving she kissed Asami’s cheek. “If you’re working next time, I’ll be sure to break any law I can.” Asami blushed at the quip and Korra disappeared back into the airport. 

As she jogged to her gate she could hear over the intercom: _last call for boarding flight 304 to Houston, Texas. Last call for boarding._


End file.
